Carbon-14: The Shroud of Turin (An Amari Johnston Novel)

by Williams, R. A.

  She scooted forward. “Unusual? What do you mean?”

  “Statistically unlikely. Not impossible, not by a long shot. But still not the most probable outcome. Not random enough.”

  “So I might be onto something?”

  The waitress set a new Coke in front of him and he immediately plopped his old straw into the new one and started sucking down more carbonated sugar.

  “Well, don’t just sit there, Kevin. Tell me what you found.”

  “Sorry, I was just trying to remember all the exact figures. These aren’t the published numbers, so I’m having to rack my brain. Hand me that pencil you got in the spine of your notebook.”

  “Here, write on this,” she said and flipped to an empty page of her notebook.

  He wrote down four numbers in order: 1430, 1376, 1246, and 1238. “It’s like this. When they cut the piece of the Shroud off that corner, they divided it into four pieces. We got the two outer pieces and Oxford and Zurich got the two middle pieces. Our outer edge, the edge closest to the outer edge of the Shroud, dates the youngest at 1430. Zurich is the next piece over and it dates at 1376, then the one from Oxford dates at 1246, and then the other edge that was sent to us, the one closer to the center of the Shroud, dates at 1238. See a pattern here?”

  “They’re in descending order.”

  “Exactly. It could be because the outer edge has more new fibers than the inner edges.”

  “I knew it,” she said, clenching her fists in victory. “They gradually wove the thread in to make it look more even. The outer edges would be almost completely new. The inside pieces would have more original cloth.”

  “Now don’t get too excited, not just yet. There’s one problem. How did they get the color to match? Linen yellows over time. The new linen they wove in would look a lot lighter.”

  “They wouldn’t have used linen. They used cotton because cotton takes up dye better than linen. And all they had to do was dye the cotton to match the color. Then they would unravel the ends of each piece, the old and the new, and carefully wind the fibers together. It was tedious work, but they did it all the time back then.”

  “Hmmm,” he said.

  “Hmmm? What does that mean?”

  “You know they took over 5,000 photos when STURP studied the Shroud in 1978, photos from all kinds of wavelengths. I remember seeing an ultraviolet photo that looked funny around that corner. I can’t remember why it looked funny, but for some reason you reminded me of it.”

  “I’d love to see those photos. Do you know how I could get a hold of some?”

  “Come back by my office and I’ll show them to you. I’ve got some of them on floppy disc. The one I’m referring to is on one of those.”

  “Oh, my gosh, Kevin, I can’t believe this. Are you serious? How did you get those?”

  He shrugged. “I know people. A friend of mine named Jeffery works as a physicist at Los Alamos National Scientific Laboratories. He works with Ray Rogers, and Ray was a member of STURP. Jeffery got them from Ray and he copied them for me. Why don’t you come by and I’ll show you. But come by on my lunch hour so Rahal can’t say I’m helping you on company time.”

  “I’d love too.”

  “Come Monday if you want. You know, you’re quite the detective. And you say you’re an art major?”

  “Actually, I started out in criminal justice. My dad’s a cop so he turned me onto that. Guess I had a change of heart.”

  “Art? Boy, that’s a big shift in priorities.”

  “Big time. Now, I’m not really sure what I want to do. Maybe I’ll go back into criminal justice. I think that’s where my heart really is.”

  “You’re just like Bono.”

  “Bono? From U2?

  “Still haven’t found what you’re looking for,” he said with a satisfied grin.

  “I love U2. I saw them up at Red Rocks outside Denver in 83.”

  “No way. When they recorded the live album in the rain?”

  “That’s the one. I got soaked, but it was worth it. Hey, Rattle and Hum opens tonight. You should go with me.” She couldn’t believe that came out of her mouth. She hardly knew this guy.

  “Gosh, I’m bushed tonight. Might be too late to get tickets anyway.”

  “You’re right. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be forward.” Naturally, he made an excuse. He was just being polite.

  “How ‘bout tomorrow? I hate going to movies alone and I sure ain’t missing this one. What do you say?”

  “I’d love to. I work the afternoon shift, but I’m off the evening. I can just meet you there if you want.”

  “Seven o’clock show sound good?”

  “Perfect. Maybe we can stop by Chili’s after.”

  “It’s a date.”

  Chapter 15

  Amari walked toward the ticket office of the Miramonte Cinema 8. She wore her colorful long Benneton sweater that stretched down to her thighs. She hoped it didn’t make her hips look too big. Then again, Kevin was a genius, not superficial like most guys. That’s why she chose to stick with only a dab of makeup. If he was going to like her, he’d like her for what she was, not for the mask she put on her face like Jenny did.

  She spotted him in front of the box office. He wore jeans and a knit pink Polo Shirt, not the worn flannel shirt he’d worn at work. He looked a little 1983, but at least he tried to look nice for their date—which wasn’t a real date. They both liked U2. Nothing more.

  She walked up behind him and tugged on his shirt.

  He spun around to face her. “Hey, Amari.”

  “Where’s your hat?”

  “Oh, that? That’s my thinking cap. University of Tennessee. Go Vols.”

  “That’s where Jenny went too, isn’t it?”

  “Orange blood flows in our family.”

  “You should see a doctor about that. Could be serious.”

  “Could be.”

  “Hey, you know who you look like without the hat?”

  “Who?”

  “MacGyver. You know, it’s cut up over your ears, parted in the middle and wavy on top, long in the back.”

  “Sweet,” he said with delight shining in his eyes. “It’s like the only show I watch—that and Star Trek. You think I should go for a Jean-Luc Picard look next?”

  “And shave your head? Don’t you dare,” she said and ran her fingers through his hair like a comb. She snatched her hand back when she realized how forward she was being. Seriously, they just met.

  “Hey, let’s go get some good seats toward the back,” he said like he didn’t even notice. “I got tickets already.”

  ****

  After the movie, Amari followed Kevin’s Honda Accord to Chili’s. Rattle and Hum rocked, of course. U2 was amazing, as always. And Kevin was so non-threatening, it was easy to let her guard down, which wasn’t usually easy for her to do since her last date with that guy from the wrestling team. It seemed like the only guys that were interested in her were jocks, the testosterone reeking man’s man type that only wanted to control her—which was the last thing she was looking for from a guy. In the past, her brief relationships would start with a cheesy pickup line and end the first time they put their uninvited hands on her. Sometimes it got ugly. But this date happened differently. It had started out of mutual interests, a working relationship between two people who were interested in the Shroud and just so happened to love U2. And Kevin was way different from other guys. He wasn’t pushy and his intentions were totally innocent. If he saw anything in her, he’d be interested in her thoughts, not just her looks. At least that’s the impression she got from him.

  Unfortunately, the Chili’s waitress sat them right next to the smoking section, but once the Awesome Blossom arrived, neither of them seemed to notice the smoke drifting to their side.

  “What do you think about Bono’s voice?” she asked. “It’s gotten raspier since The Unforgettable Fire.”

  “Man, he can wail, though, can’t he?”

  “I hope he doesn�
��t trash his voice. He keeps that up, and he’s going to,” she said and dipped an onion slice into the sauce. Good thing she had cinnamon gum in her purse. The onion was his idea.

  He took a bite and there was a moment of silence while they both chewed and just kind of looked at each other.

  He finally spoke. “So you’re half Indian, huh?”

  “My mother was a full-blooded Navajo.”

  “Yeah, Jenny told me about your mom. I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “That’s breast cancer for you.”

  “That must have been hard.”

  “It’s still hard.” She quickly changed the subject. “So what about your mom?”

  “Still living in Tennessee. She loves it there. It’s the change of seasons she likes the most. The dogwoods—wow. You ought to see it during the Dogwood Arts Festival. It’s amazing.”

  “I’m sure it is. Hey, you should come with me to see the saguaro cactuses bloom in spring. They may not be pretty as dogwoods, but it’s a closer drive, that’s for sure. Saguaro National Park is maybe fifteen miles from here.”

  “It’s a date,” he said.

  She just realized she’d asked him out again. She’d better back off before she chased him away. “Well, they don’t start blooming until April, so we have a little time.”

  “I’ll mark it on my calendar.”

  Well, he didn’t seem to mind. Maybe he was interested in being more than friends. Still, he had some odd beliefs. She’d better go into detective mode and find out more about this guy before she got involved. “So, Kevin, does everybody in Tennessee believe in space aliens?”

  “Most people out there don’t read as much as I do. You ever read The Bible and Flying Saucers by Barry Downing? He’s a Presbyterian minister up in New York. He thinks a big UFO is what led the Israelites out of Egypt.”

  “I think you’ve been watching too much Star Trek.”

  “What about Ezekiel’s wheel within a wheel? Elijah taken to heaven by a chariot of fire? Or was it a glowing space craft? Think about it, Amari, Jesus was beamed up into a cloud? More like the mother ship. Angels and all these unidentified lights people keep seeing? They’re one in the same. Well, I think so anyway.”

  “That’s not how I was taught in church,” she said with a wry smile. “Is that what they teach where you went to church?”

  “I wouldn’t know. I’m not really into church.”

  That response took the wind out of her, but she tried not to react. She was afraid he wasn’t a Christian. Most science types weren’t. “Well, I am into church and I don’t remember the Sunday school teacher saying anything about little green men carving the Ten Commandments. That’s pretty weird, don’t you think? Like crazy cult weird. You are just kidding about all this, right? Please tell me you’re just messing with me.”

  “Hey, I didn’t come up with this stuff. It’s in the books. I just read them. I don’t write them.”

  “You’ve never had a girlfriend, have you?”

  “Why would you say that?”

  “Because girlfriends are very needy. They’re time-consuming. You wouldn’t have time to read all those crazy books if you had a girlfriend.”

  “No serious girlfriends. I’ve been pretty busy the last few years. What about you?”

  “I’ve had a couple, nothing too serious either.”

  “You’ve had a couple of girlfriends?”

  Amari wadded her napkin and playfully flung it at him. “No, Kevin, I meant boyfriends.”

  Kevin snickered and handed her napkin back. “I’m just messing with you.”

  “You like doing that, don’t you? Like the alien thing?”

  He simply grinned for a moment and then changed the subject. “So what were you saying about your boyfriends?”

  “Oh, that. Let’s just say it’s been a while. I lost interested after the last guy I dated.”

  “Really, was he a jerk?”

  “He tried to rape me.”

  His eyes narrowed in anger. “I’m sorry, Amari.”

  “Not as sorry as he was. When you’re a cop’s kid, you take self-defense classes. Guess I should have warned him.” She held up her arm and flexed her bicep. “You don’t have to be big or strong to defend yourself. You just have to know the moves and hit the right spots. Memorize them. Practice them. You have to be smart, quick, and have good aim.”

  “That muscle in your arm’s bigger than mine. Let me feel that thing.”

  She pulled back her sleeve and flexed her muscle for him. He reached over and squeezed. His hand lingered on her arm for a second and then he pulled away.

  “Feels pretty firm to me. I wouldn’t want to mess with you. So what did you do to him?”

  “I kicked him in the groin and crushed his Adam’s apple. He’ll think twice about trying that on another girl—when he gets out of prison.”

  “Ohh,” he said and cringed. “That hurts. But good, that’s where he belongs.”

  “I wasn’t his first victim, so he went away for a while.”

  “You don’t have to worry about me.”

  “I know, I don’t. That’s why I’m with you now. You’re harmless, I can tell.”

  “That I am,” he said and dipped another onion piece into the sauce.

  Amari was sick of reliving that date in her mind, so she changed the subject. “So tell me about Tennessee. I’ve never been there.”

  “I grew up in a valley, between the Smoky Mountains and the Cumberland Plateau. It’s not too hot, not too cold, and we don’t get many tornadoes. Fall and spring are pretty.”

  “So how did you end up there?”

  “World War II. My grandfather was a physicist. He helped develop the atomic bomb. He actually worked with Einstein, you know.”

  “Albert Einstein?”

  “That’s the one. So when we started to make the bomb, the government sent my grandfather to Oak Ridge to help with the nuclear fuel enrichment.”

  “The Manhattan Project?”

  “That’s what they called it. After the war, he stayed there and worked for the Oak Ridge National Lab. Then my dad followed in his footsteps and worked for ORNL too.”

  “I hate to tell you this, but when I think of Tennessee, I usually think of The Beverly Hillbillies.”

  “I love that show. But that’s just Hollywood. Some of the smartest people in the world live where I come from.”

  “So I guess you were valedictorian?”

  “When I was sixteen. Oak Ridge High School. I skipped a couple of grades. Then I got my undergrad and masters at UT. That hat I wear is the one I wore in Knoxville. It’s my good luck hat. So then I went to MIT for my Ph.D.”

  “So how’d you get so smart?”

  “Genes, I guess. My buddies in school seemed to struggle, but it came easy to me. Plus, my dad helped me a lot, pointed me to the right books. He was pretty strict about TV. He only had it for watching the news. So what about you?”

  “Not much to tell. What you see is who I am. I was born in Winslow but moved to Tucson when I was three. All I remember is this. I never spent much time on the reservation. My dad and Mother’s parents didn’t get along.”

  “You know, Amari, the two of us have a lot in common.”

  “You think so?”

  “Sure, we both like U2, we’re both interested in the Shroud of Turin, and I’m part Indian myself.”

  “Really? You don’t look it.”

  “Seriously. My grandfather’s grandmother was a full-blooded Cherokee.”

  She counted generations on her fingers. “So that makes you one sixteenth?”

  “Yep, isn’t that weird how we got that in common?”

  She threw out a laugh. “The only thing weird here is you.”

  Chapter 16

  It was the following Monday afternoon, and Kevin let Amari into the lab. They went to his office and closed the door behind them. She sat a white bag from McDonald’s on his desk. He had cleaned the place. His papers were neatly stacked and all th
e books and manuals were shelved.

  “Big Mac with extra-large fries?” he asked.

  “You said not to bring drinks.”

  “Go my own little fridge. Fully stocked. What are you drinking?”

  “Water if you have it.”

  He pulled out a plastic bottle with a pink and blue label. “Try this. It’s mineral water from France.”

  “Evian mineral water. Fancy.”

  He ate his Big Mac and she had her McDLT as he talked about the eleven other employees of the lab.

  When they’d finished eating, he wadded up the white bag and tossed it into the garbage can. “We better get this show on the road before my lunch hour is up. Rahal might be on the prowl.”

  “So show me these pictures you talked about.”

  He snapped up a floppy disc and displayed it proudly between his index finger and thumb. “It took me a while to find the right one, but this is it. It has regular close-up photos of that corner of the Shroud. Ultraviolet photos too. Let me whip this baby into my spiffy new Compaq Deskpro 386 with 4 kilobytes of memory. It’s capable of 4 million operations per second, you know.”

  “Impressive.”

  He inserted the disc. The drive clicked rhythmically as it loaded its information into the computer. “It’s got a 32-bit chip with 275,000 transistors,” he said as he typed away at the keyboard. After a few seconds, an image popped up on the screen. “Here’s the one. This is a close-up shot of the spot they sampled for the carbon date. This picture was taken about ten years ago. Lean in so you can see it better.”

  She leaned close and squinted as she examined the herringbone twill of the fabric. “Okay, you can clearly see this is woven in a three-to-one herringbone twill pattern and spun with aZ-twist. This weave pattern was common in the Middle East during the time of Christ.”

  “You know your twills.”

  “I try.” Her eyes flashed wide. “I knew it! Look, I can see it.”

  “See what?”

  “I can see the repair!”

  “Looks all the same to me.”

  “No, seriously, look here.” She pressed her fingernail to the glass of the computer monitor. “See, the weave patterns are misaligned. They’re off axis.”